


Flashes of Love

by SealandRocks



Series: Love Stories for the Oblivious [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Cute, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Mission Reports, Pictures, Selfies, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-10
Updated: 2019-07-10
Packaged: 2020-06-26 00:51:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19757221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SealandRocks/pseuds/SealandRocks
Summary: How exactly did Crowley invent/take credit for the selfie? Probably dramatically.





	Flashes of Love

**Author's Note:**

> I mentioned Crowley inventing the selfie via polaroid in my last story, and I didn't get to focus on it as much as I wanted. So, here's an expansion! Enjoy!

“Ok, so the setup is the most important part. It's innocent enough to those taking the picture, but to everyone else, well. That’s where we’ll get the majority of the souls. Sure, we’ll get a few through vanity, but jealousy and criticism, ah. That’s where we’ll hit them hard.” 

Crowley brought out an instant-developing polaroid camera. He showed it around to the room, ever the showman, and received a few boos in response. Hell was always a tough crowd. Crowley didn’t acknowledge it, spinning his back to the crowd with a flourish. 

“Ok, this part is important. The camera has to be facing whomever is taking the picture. If you’re taking the picture and you’re not in it, it’s not a selfie! Now, you hold it like this, smile, and…!”

Crowley struck a grin, pressing the button and blinding everyone behind him with the flash. Another advantage of wearing his sunglasses everywhere, the flash didn’t affect him at all. In fact, he took pride in the agonized groans behind him. 

The camera spat out a silver film at him, and after a few moments of shaking the picture developed. It truly had captured the feel of the place: Crowley smiling in the foreground and a dozen or so glaring, slimey demons behind him. A masterpiece. 

“Yes, um… Thank you, demon Crowley. We’ll give your idea thought.” Beelzubub pinched the bridge of her nose between two fingers. With a wave of her hand the session was disbanded and everyone started to leave. 

“No, you don’t understand. Look at this!” Crowley grabbed a random demon from the crowd, wrapping an arm around the poor fellows neck and striking a rock-on sign before taking another picture. The demon yelped and grasped at his eyes, making Crowley laugh as the next picture came out. 

“People are already tripping over themselves to get cameras, imagine what it would be like for them to take pictures they can’t even see. Don’t like how the image turned out? Just take another! Film is only $10 for a pack of 5, it’s worth it. They’ll be throwing away all their money, blinding their friends, and looking ridiculous the entire time they’re doing it!”

Crowley showed the picture around the dispersing room. A few demons looked interested, but Beelzebub just looked like the headache was getting worse. 

“Yes, I said we’d think about it. Put it in your report.”

“Aw, come on, Lord Beelzebub. This idea is marvelous, it can’t wait to go through all that paperwork. There’ll be people who think hating selfies is an entire personality. Can you imagine something more chaotic?”

Crowley jogged to keep up with Beelzebub, who despite her best efforts to get rid of the nagging demon was only so tall and could only walk so fast. 

“Here, I’ll show you! Hastur!” Crowley sauntered up to where the other demon looked caught in the headlights. Hastur realized that sticking around to see what Crowley was about to say was a bad idea when it was too late. Crowley pulled him in by the lapels, struck a stunning smile at the camera, and snapped a selfie. Hastur cried out and pushed Crowley away, trying to smooth his lapels back into their greasy position while his eyes saw nothing but stars. 

“Look!” Crowley handed the picture to Beelzebub, who rolled her eyes but took it anyway. Hastur had been caught half scream on the film, perfectly contrasted by Crowley’s calm smile. Beelzebub wasn’t one for sentimentality, but she did appreciate a good joke, and her lips were fighting to remain downturned. On one hand, she hated to give Crowley any more credit than was due. On the other hand, Hastur looked ridiculous and would now look that way until the picture faded in a few hundred years. But it wasn’t like she could just ok a demonic plan without going through the proper channels. They were Hell, not the mafia.

Meanwhile, Crowley could sense the hesitation and was spurred into action. He started pulling in random demons as they passed, knocking many down in the process and filling the usually bleak hallways with his rancorous laughter as they struggled to get away. 

“You have to do something!” Ligur screamed at Beelzebub from behind a rolling chair. The noise alerted Crowley to his presence, who approached to investigate, and Ligur made the mistake of giving chase. What followed was a full minute of ducks, turns, falling, and otherworldly yet colorful curses as the fateful flash blinded him at last. Crowley howled in triumph, eyes glowing yellow even from behind his lenses.

Beelzebub was at a loss. Hell wasn’t exactly the most organized place in the world, but the chaos that was quickly consuming the patch of corridor was starting to get out of hand. Photos were collecting on the floor, each more unflattering than the last. 

Security appeared from somewhere, wrangling up what appeared to be every demon but Crowley. That slippery fucking serpent, Beelzebub thought. Apparently, if you wanted some damned peace and quiet around here you had to do it yourself. 

Calmer than she felt, Beelzebub reached out into the fray and caught Crowley by the collar, gripping with unnatural strength as she dragged him towards the exit.

“See, if they could cause this much upset down here, imagine what they could do up above!” Crowley’s feet were scrambling for purchase at the floor, his body not liking being dragged by someone a good foot shorter than himself. Beelzebub was barely listening.

“Clearly you’re doing fine up there, keep up the good work.”

The click of the shutter gave her a half-second’s warning before the flash of the camera blinded her. Crowley, that bastard, had just enough film for one parting selfie.

“You’ll read about it all in my report, then?” Crowley asked as he was all but thrown out of Hell.

“Don’t count on it.”

And just like that, the portal closed. Crowley tried and failed to suppress his snicker. That had been fun. And this final photo was just unflattering enough to have made the trip worth it. Definitely one for the living room.

He headed back to his apartment, thumbing the stack of pictures in his pocket and thinking about how he could rope Aziraphale into a picture or two where they were both smiling. He was surprised to find an envelope taped to his door, his name spelled out in the type of beautiful calligraphy that only Aziraphale could pull off. 

Crowley furrowed his brow as he opened the envelope. It wasn’t unheard of to get a letter from Aziraphale, but it didn’t happen often. He pulled out the letter, surprised to find Heaven letterhead on it. 

“Earth Report #3928. Utilization of personal photos, known to the opposition as “selfies”, for Heavenly purposes. Cause: Improved self esteem of humans linked strongly to self image.” 

Crowley stopped reading the report, distracted by something else that fell out of the envelope. 

It was a picture. Centered in the shot was Aziraphale’s angelic smile, slightly lopsided and awkward in the angle of the picture but still stunning. Behind him was Gabriel, clearly caught off guard by the flash and mouth open in what Crowley imagined was a protest. They were polar opposites, and after a moment Crowley noticed a strong likeness between this picture and the one he had taken earlier that day with Beelzebub. The laughter bubbled up from Crowley’s chest, spurred on by the ridiculous photo. It was almost unfair that Aziraphale wasn’t even here and could make Crowley laugh like he was 3 sheets to the wind drunk. 

“To Crowley,” The caption on the photo read in Aziraphale’s handwriting, “Sending you love from above!”

Crowley’s face felt hot. He had to close his eyes, overwhelmed with the sweet message. What could he even be thinking to send him something like this? Aziraphale had to be careful. With words like that, Crowley was in danger of falling in love.


End file.
